


The Birthday Party

by DruidX



Series: Modern Oblivion AU [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Party, Breaking and Entering, Cigarettes, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romantic Fluff, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27049072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruidX/pseuds/DruidX
Summary: It's Baurus's birthday! Martin and Baurus obtain ingredients and prepare a nice meal for their friends to celebrate.Set post main quest in a Modern AU.
Relationships: Baurus & Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil, Baurus/Martin Septim, Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil & Martin Septim
Series: Modern Oblivion AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945987
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of September [corkytheguar](https://corkytheguar.tumblr.com/) requested a fix-it AU and [arcane-elder-scrolls](https://arcane-elder-scrolls.tumblr.com/) requested fluff. The two together are what sent me on this Modern AU kick in the first place, so I hope I'm doing justice to their expectations :D
> 
> It's taken me a little while to make this fluff actually, ya know, _fluffy_ , but I can happily say that this fluff has been certified by the Gentleman Friend as Grade-A Candyfloss (he really doesn't like my angsty stories, so you know this is quality fluff)
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Warning** : There is some mild cursing, one f-bomb and some mild sexual content.

"What is it exactly we need to get for your mother's 'famous' Jambalaya?" Martin asked, leaning against the bars of the shopping trolly as they walked through the car park. Grey concrete was turned honey-yellow by the morning sun, filling the space with syrupy warmth.   
"It's fine Martin," Baurus paused, as behind chicken-wire fence and gaudy bobbing wallflowers an overground train thundered past. "I have a full list with me," the American said. He let go of their wayward trolly to stretch, hands clasping the back of his head. Martin smiled as Baurus' shirt rode up, his eyes roaming over the strong mahogany lines of his paramour's lower back and hips.  
"And we'll be able to purchase it all here?"  
"Yes, Martin." Baurus chuckled, a warm rolling wave. "Creole food isn't some arcane science. Besides, anything Budgens doesn't have, we can get at that little Asian shop around the corner." He turned back, watching Martin carefully, pleased to see how the Englishman was filling out from his long month of bed-rest. Martin was staring off into the distance, a small pinch to his brow.  
Baurus caught the other man's arm, pulling them to a halt.   
"Stop worrying about dinner," he said, punctuating it with a kiss. "It's not like you're going to be doing the cooking."  
"Yes, I'm aware of who the master chef is here," Martin retorted. He looked away again, giving the merest exhalation of breath.  
"Then what's bothering you?"  
"Nothing."  
"Really?"   
Martin looked back to see Baurus giving him a disapproving frown, his lips kicked to one side and eyebrows raised in question.  
Martin barked out a laugh. "Don't give me that look. I know exactly who taught you it, and you don't pull it off half so well as she does." He shook his head, with another small sigh. "My apologies, dear heart. I'm finding acclimatizing harder than I expected."   
Baurus reached over, pulling his beau into a hug. "I know, hun," he said, rubbing Martin's back. "That's why we have a therapist. You have to talk about what's wrong, remember? So tell me."  
Martin laid his cheek against Baurus' shoulder. "It's... our company tonight... It's your birthday, and I respect your right to choose your attendees..."  
"You're worried about the Blades?"  
"... Among others..."  
"Martin, hun. It won't be weird. I promise. They love you almost as much as I do. They wouldn't have watched over you during the coma if they didn't. They're not going to suddenly start judging you on your plate patterns and choice of colour for the hall."  
Martin huffed out a laugh. "I know that. It's just..." He gave a deep sigh and pressed his face further into Baurus' shoulder.  
"I know," Baurus said, rubbing his back again. "It's okay. It's overwhelming. They won't all show up at once, I asked them not to." Baurus pressed a kiss into Martin's silky brown locks, inhaling the pinewood scent of his shampoo. "I promise it'll be okay. They're looking forward to seeing you again. And hey, it'll be nice to have the band back together, yeah?"  
Martin pulled back. "The _entire_ band? Does that mean you've heard-?"  
Baurus coughed. "Not yet. But I'm sure I will." He gave Martin a last squeeze before he let the other man go.  
"Hrm," was Martin's neutral reply, as he turned his attention back to the trolly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your NSFW warning just in case you need to hide your phone from nosey people.

Later the two men returned to their townhouse. The kitchen island was filled with food and they flitted, dancelike, to store their newly purchased groceries. As Martin put the last few things away, Baurus pulled out a huge iron pot.  
"You think that'll make enough?" he asked.  
Martin turned to see Baurus squinting at the pot with a critical eye. He laughed, a light sound like the spark of sun on ocean waves.   
"Darling," he said, wrapping his arms around Baurus' shoulders, "that looks big enough to feed a small army. We've, what, ten coming tonight?" He chuckled again. "I think that will do just fine."  
Baurus made a small thoughtful noise, absently running a thumb over Martin's apple-blossom arm.  
"I should have started cooking sooner," Baurus said, mostly to himself. "I don't know it'll be done in time..."  
Martin nuzzled into Baurus' neck. "Darling, you're cooking it, so it will be perfect. The Blades are used to much worse fare. _I've_ cooked for them, after all. Now come, the sooner we start, the longer it has to mellow." Martin peppered kisses along Baurus' neck, feeling the other man relax, before he loosened his arms and pulled back. Before he could escape completely, Baurus twisted, catching a hand. The American chuckled.  
"You are wise as ever, my English rose," Baurus said, planting a kiss on the back of Martin's hand.  
Martin snorted but leaned forward to capture his paramour's lips in a kiss. When they parted he tapped Baurus on the chest.   
"Come on. What do you need me to chop?"

While Baurus set a timer on his rising sourdough, he directed Martin to chop vegetables for the pot then set about frying chicken in a spicy jerk paste. Soon the umber scents of ginger, chilli and pimento filled the kitchen, wafting through the house. His vegetables chopped, Martin wandered into the lounge to put on some music. The sounds of a bright, warm Louisiana summer filled the air – a ragtime tempo filled with the honey brass, ice-cream piano and chocolate double bass of a big jazz band.

As Baurus filled the pot with the chicken, veg, rice and stock, he tilted his head towards something Martin said as the latter man chopped a chorizo ring. A brilliant smile spread over his face as Baurus realised Martin was singing along to the track playing.  
"My baby don't care for shows. My baby don't care for clothes..."  
Baurus sidled up behind Martin. "My baby just cares for me," they sang together. Martin placed his knife carefully on the counter, twisting to face Baurus with a bright smile.  
"My baby don't care who knows," he sang, sliding his hands under Baurus' loose cotton t-shirt.  
"My baby just cares for me," Baurus sang back, leaning forward for an involved kiss.  
They were rudely interrupted by the bread timer going off. Baurus pulled back, delighting in the flush that dusted Martin's cheeks, and the sun catching hints of silver in his hair.  
"I'd better get that," he said, as the timer continued it's annoyed wail.  
"Yes. Yes, right. Of course," Martin swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.   
Baurus smiled wider and licked his lips. "That means you need to let go, _chère_ ."  
"Ah." The dust of pink deepened and Martin let his hands fall away from Baurus' waist.  
Grinning, Baurus turned away and while he dealt with making sourdough buns, Martin finished cutting his chorizo and did a quick clean of the kitchen.

Once the pot was merrily bubbling away and the dinner buns were baking, the two sat in the lounge, warm with noonday sun, and ate lunch.  
"Was there anything you wanted to do this afternoon?" Martin asked.  
"Hurm," Baurus pretended to consider, then gave a wink. "You?"  
Martin snorted, then gave a lascivious smirk. "It _is_ your birthday..."  
Baurus laughed. "Sure is."  
Martin moved both their plates to the coffee table and slid along the sofa. He took one of Baurus' hands, placing it palm down on his own, caressing his paramour's long fingers with his own. Baurus' eyes flickered closed, and he let out a deep contented sigh and almost-moan.  
"Well, Darling," Martin said, bringing the hand to his lips, kissing the tips of the fingers, "Would you like to take this upstairs?"  
Baurus gave a breathy grunt, nodding vigorously. Martin stood, pulling Baurus to his feet.  
The oven timer went off.  
Baurus' eyes flew open. " _Damnit!_ "  
Martin pulled away, stifling a laugh. "Oh, dear. I suppose you'd better get that, darling."  
Baurus gave an annoyed murmur, pressing a quick kiss to Martin's rosebud lips.  
"Don't go anywhere," Baurus growled, his eyes still limpid.  
"Wouldn't dream of it, dear," Martin said, smirking, as Baurus left the room. From the kitchen came a concerning number of noises; clanging bakeware and banging of cupboards being hastily opened and closed. A very short time later, Baurus reappeared, a smattering of flour on his cheek. He paused in the doorway, admiring the way Martin stood in his simple grey shirt and chinos, the sun haloing him from behind, and decided he's never seen such a lovely creature.  
Martin smiled, closing the gap between them and reaching forward to brush the flour away. "Mm," he said, with an avaricious sigh as he ran his nose along Baurus' neck. "You smell like bread. Now then," he pulled back, that lascivious smirk on his lips, "where were we?"  
"About here, I think," Baurus said. Coffee-sweet jazz swirled around them, joining the golden afternoon sunlight, as they came together for a deep and passionate kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

Aderyn glanced at her watch as she ran through the grey service tunnels, lit by stark industrial over-heads to create cold, grimy-looking concrete caverns. The numbers ticked over to 1904, backlit by a garish green face. Plenty of time, she decided. It shouldn't take long to get in, get what she needed and leave again. Plenty of time to make it to where she needed to be afterwards. She ignored the voice suggesting she was, instead, cutting it fine, and cutting it fine on purpose.

She skidded to a halt in front of a huge humming generator, dismissing the thought. She had plenty of time, yes. But she'd have less if she didn't focus. From the bag strapped across her chest, she withdrew a tool roll, nestling down to pry at the generator's sensitive innards.   
Once the generator stopped humming and she was satisfied it'd been separated from the failsafe switch, she packed up, moving again towards the end of the service tunnels.  
A basic security door with a square of recessed safety glass met her there. She ducked down, avoiding getting caught staring through the glass, and turned to the keypad next to it. It was basic. Elderly too, if the worn paint was anything to go by. Probably a simple, 4-digit code. Someone's wife's birth year, perhaps, or the date of an anniversary. As she studied the numbers, a birth year seemed most plausible, so she keyed in the most likely sequences. It only took two tries. The keypad gave an off-kilter beep, a green light flicked on, and the door gave the heavy thunk of locks releasing.  
Aderyn readjusted her gloves, making sure her mask, earwig and head torch were comfortably in place, then slunk through the door and into a stairwell. A glance told her there were no CCTV cameras, but it didn't hurt to be paranoid, so she was slow in ascending the short flight of stairs to the next level.

Once again, a keypad met her, this time accompanied by a card reader. She grinned as she pulled out a blank plastic card, thankful to the older gent she'd 'bumped into' in the car park a few days ago. Aderyn glanced through the door's window into a sterile white corridor with the hallmark tiles of a suspended floor. In the corner of the corridor, where the hallway turned sharply deeper into the building, was the black, bug-like shimmer of a camera lens. Aderyn frowned. She'd have to exit this door carefully, then, if she wasn't to be spotted. She turned her attention back to the keypad. It was the same model as before, with the same worn numbers. She gave it an incredulous look for a moment, before tapping the cloned ID card against the reader and putting in the same 4-digit year. The card reader gave a wearied merp, the keypad chirped, and the door clunked open. Aderyn bit her lip to suppress a snort of amusement.

She slipped through the door, sliding along the wall and into the camera's blind spot. There, the specialist crouched, pulling out a sucker with a handle from her pack which she used to ease up the corner of a tile. Down went the sucker, followed by the woman, into the dark recess below. Aderyn flipped on her headtorch, grateful for the dust filter built into the balaclava, and that her hair was covered. She wouldn't have time to go home for a shower, and it wouldn't look good if she showed up later covered in dust.

Carefully she slithered and cats-pawed over trunking and around ethernet cables until she came to the room she wanted... Only to find a wall blocking her way. Aderyn sat back on her heels, head tilted to one side. At last, here was some semblance of security. There was a hole cut through for the cabling, so she leant forward to study the edge, running a gloved finger over it. The wood frayed under her hand. She bit down on another giggle, as she reached back into her pack and pulled out the tool roll, selecting a slim, serrated blade. Chipboard, really? Who had thought  _ that _ was a good idea, she mused as she began sawing into the dividing wall.   
Several long minutes later, hot and sticky with sweat and dust, Aderyn wiggled through the hole she'd made. Under the suspended floor of the data centre, she carefully tested the panels above for one she could escape through.

The room was hot and dark when she emerged, the sounds of fans and occasional electronic blips filling the air. In the artificial night, the lights of the servers twinkled in constellations of red, green, yellow and blue. The Fox had given her a sketch of the room during her briefing, highlighting the server she was aiming for. She padded through the racks, monolithic and buzzing, until her quick eyes spotted the glimmer of a reflection. Curious, she padded over to find a Double Magnum of bubbly sat at the foot of one rack.  
Aderyn narrowed her eyes. It could be a bluff to make her think this was the correct rack of servers. There were so many towers of data here, she wouldn't put it past the Fox to distract her like this. Instead, she pulled a blacklight from her pack and searched for the Fox's UV mark, the only sure-fire way to know she had the right server. Then- there it was. Smiling to herself, she held the blacklight in her teeth, while fishing out her mobile and the cable needed to connect to the server.  
Several short minutes later, Aderyn had the file she needed: A simple plain-text note named "STEAL ME!". On a whim, she checked the file's contents, smiling at the message it contained. She disconnected from the server, swapping the serial cable for a USB-C-to-USB-A converter to transfer the file from her phone to a thumb drive.

With the important part of the job out of the way, Aderyn changed from her sleek black infiltration outfit to a more casual look – faded jeans under calf-high leather boots, an umber rollneck sweater, loose auburn hair under a felt bolero hat, topped off by a ruby pendant on a long gold chain. Back into the pack went her tactical gear, the thumb drive into a pocket and, carrying the bottle of wine, she strolled out of the data centre and towards the shadowy figure waiting next to a gunmetal-grey Land Rover in the car park.

  
"Hey, Foxie," Aderyn said to the silver suited man. He inclined his head to her, his grey mask with its red sigils revealing nothing of his face.  
"How did it go?" he asked, holding out an expectant hand. His voice was deep, melodic with a mysterious Mediterranian accent, always making Aderyn think of varnished wood that refracted like Tiger's Eye gems.  
Aderyn fished the thumb drive from her pocket and handed it over.   
"Piece of piss," she said as he tucked it into his breast pocket. "Their security was basic... Basically shit. You'll get my report in a few days."  
"Understandable. You will be busy tonight, after all." She couldn't see him smile, but his voice was spicy with amusement and his pale eyes flashed with mirth.  
"Yeah." Aderyn held up the bottle of wine. "Thanks for the bubbles. It'll go down a treat."  
"My pleasure." The Fox inclined his head. "Your standard payment will be in your bank accounts within three-to-five days, as usual. You'll have your standard seven-day cooling off and then I'll contact you for any further jobs. Agreed?"  
"Yeah, course," Aderyn nodded. She never understood why they did this same dance after each job. He knew she'd always agree. But it seemed important to him, so she'd never complained, nor asked why.   
"Excellent," he said, voice light. Under the mask, his eyes crinkled in a smile. "Then I wish you a very fine evening, my dear. Do say hello to everyone for me?"  
Aderyn grinned. "Course Foxie," she agreed, knowing he only asked for the mischievous purpose of ruffling some feathers. The same reason he'd left the bubbly too, she suspected.  
"Well then," the Fox said, extending a grey-gloved hand again. Aderyn clasped it with her own, still clad in tactical black. "Shadow hide you," the old man said, and they shook.   
Aderyn took her cue, as always, and walked to the most expensive car in the lot - a 1958 Ferrari GT Cabriolet convertible. After carefully placing the bubbly in the passenger side footwell, she gunned the engine and was off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, the f-bomb is in this chapter. Also mild angst.

Aderyn pressed the doorbell and stepped back, fiddling with the pendant and running her fingers over the fractures in the stone. She gazed unseeing at the welly boots, old flowerpots and other detritus that porches everywhere seemed to collect as she thought about the events that caused the fractures under her fingertips.  
_ The red stone, under the solid heel of his old leather shoes, swimming in darker red. His pleading eyes turned towards her, three fingers held up. Two. One.  
_ _ "Dagon!" _

Aderyn jerked, as somewhere in a road over, a boy racer squealed his tires and gunned his engine. For an instant, her hand clenched around the pendant, then she shook her head, relaxing her grip and wondering why she was even here. The text had said everyone would be there. Everyone.   
She'd taken her duty on the roster of watching over him, looked after her friends when they couldn't look after themselves. She'd got the text he was awake in the middle of a job, had come straight after, ran up to the ICU. The room was empty of Blades when she pushed the door open, and for a moment he looked like nothing had changed. Then his eyes fluttered, revealing those baby blues, and everything came crashing down. She'd fled, and not looked back. Until now.

In the summer night, warm inside the porch, Aderyn's fingers itched for the curve of a cigarette, for the calm found in the drag of burnt air through a filter. She took a step backwards, out of the porch, unlooping the pendant and stuffing in a back pocket. She was turning away with the intent of striking up when the door opened. 

A wash of light and happy voices spilt out into the blue night.  
"Little Bird! You came." Aderyn turned back to see Baurus smiling from the doorway, his teeth like diamonds.   
"Happy Birthday!" she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "Course I came, babes. How could I miss my boy's big bash?"  
"Were you leaving?"  
"Nah. Only, you was taking so long, I was gonna have a fag while I waited."  
He rolled his eyes with a half-grin, long since tired of reminding her smoking was bad for one's health.

"Come in, come in," he held the door open and she walked into the entryway. "I was afraid you weren't going to make it."  
"Yeah, sorry about that. I got a bit caught up in work."   
"You came straight from a job?"  
Aderyn nodded, handing him the bottle of bubbly and threw her hat on a peg. "Yup. The Grey Fox says happy birthday, by the by," she said and bent down to remove her shoes. When she righted, Baurus was giving her a look he'd perfected when it came to expressing how displeased he was with something she'd done.  
"Why are you still working for that man?" he asked.  
"The pay is good, the jobs are fun and it keeps me out of trouble."   
"You don't need the money. You're still on the Blade's books if you're bored. And there ain't nothing can keep you out of trouble."  
Aderyn leant forward and gave him an earnest look. "Baurus, babes. It's your fucking birthday. Stop worriting and have fun." She gave him another kiss on the cheek, then drew back, sniffing dramatically. "What's for dinner? Something smells fantastic!"  
Without further comment, she wandered into the rest of the house following her nose. Baurus sighed and smiled.   
"I'd best put this on ice," he said, looking at the bottle his flighty Little Bird had handed him. "Huh," he added as he read the brand, "at least the Grey Fox doesn't skimp on his presents..."

A cheer erupted from the dining room as Baurus passed to put the Asti Spumante Gold in the fridge, and he grinned, happy at having all the people he cared most about together in one place.


End file.
